


Leather, Lace

by Zai42



Series: October 2020 [20]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Forced Feminization, Gender Issues, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:42:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Zolf's coat doesn't fit them properly, but it covers them up, at least.Prompt: Forced Feminization
Relationships: Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom/Zolf Smith
Series: October 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946893
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30
Collections: A Wilde Ride October Collection





	Leather, Lace

Zolf looked away and handed Cel his coat. It wouldn’t fit them properly - too short, too broad in the shoulders - but it covered them up, hid the lace and ribbons and exposed skin. The huddled underneath it, legs drawn up to their chest. “Thank you, Mr. Smith,” they said quietly.

“You need healing?” Zolf asked, glancing at them out of the corner of his eye.

“No,” they said. They ran a shaking hand through their hair; in flopped limply in their eyes. “No, they were...they were very _gentle_ with me.” They spat it with more vitriol than Zolf was used to hearing from them. Their shoulders sagged. “I’d just like to get home, please.”

“Yeah,” Zolf said. “Yeah, I’ll - yeah.”

When they made it back, Cel hovered for a moment in the hallway; they were a good deal taller than him, but Zolf couldn’t shake the thought that, at the moment, they were very small. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said, and turned to give them their privacy.

He was surprised when their hand closed around his bicep. “Wait,” they said. “Don’t...don’t go?”

Zolf swallowed and nodded, not quite trusting his voice not to break. Their grip loosened, their hand sliding down his arm, and Zolf let them take his hand and lead him into their bathroom.

Zolf sat on the edge of the tub to fill it, and Cel rummaged through their medicine cabinet, gathering potion bottles - two they emptied into the bathtub, one they tipped down their throat - and a pair of scissors. Zolf watched the water froth with softly multicolored bubbles, iridescent and smelling vaguely, somehow, of a campfire. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Cel fold his coat and then attack the outfit they’d been put in with their scissors, slicing through silk and lace and letting the whole mess flutter to the floor in ruins. He tried not to notice the slick sheen on their thighs. He held out a hand and helped them into the tub, eyes averted until they had sunk in up to their neck, their body hidden beneath the layers of bubbles.

“Thank you,” Cel mumbled. “For staying.” They dipped briefly below the surface of the water, scrubbing hard at their face, tossing their hair into deliberate disarray.

“Not a problem,” Zolf said. “Want me to wash your hair?”

Cel let out a long breath. “Yes,” they said. “Yes, that would be...yes. Thank you, Zolf.”

Zolf could feel the tension in them, even as they reclined into his hands. Their eyes were distant. “You want to talk about it?” Zolf asked, unsure. He stroked a strand of damp hair away from their temple.

“No,” said Cel. Then: “I just - I almost wish they’d been - ” They stopped again. Zolf scrubbed behind their missing ear. “People have been cruel to me before, Mr. Smith,” they said eventually (and Zolf ran his fingers through their hair, held them that much closer for just a moment, a distant, useless anger beating in his chest), “but this was...” They glanced over at the torn shreds of fabric on the floor, some vague and ill-defined emotion in their face. “I don’t know,” they said, voice small. “It was different, somehow.”

“Close your eyes,” Zolf said. He rinsed the soap from their hair, scratching at their scalp as he did. He wasn’t like Azu; he had no words of comfort to give them, no wisdom to fix what had been done to them. He smoothed a hand down their hair to get the last of the suds from it, then carded his fingers through it the wrong way to make it stand on end.

Cel laughed, faintly, tilting their head back to look at him upside-down. “Thank you, Mr. Smith,” they said, smiling in a way that didn’t quite touch their eyes. But it was close. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [i was dead when i woke up this morning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967946) by [skvadern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/pseuds/skvadern)




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